Four hours of watching someone not breathe should be more unsettling than it is. But there's something weirdly peaceful about lying here on Maeve's chest, trapped in the cage of her arms while she plays dead to the world. The blackout shades in the penthouse do their job perfectly, I'd have no clue if it was noon or midnight without the digital clock on the nightstand telling me it's 7:10 PM.
The first sign that Maeve is waking is a slight twitch of her fingers against my back. Her crimson eyes snap open all at once, no fluttering or gradual awakening. One moment she's corpse-still, the next she's fully conscious and staring down at me.
"Good evening, pet," she purrs, her voice husky from disuse.
"Good morn…" I catch myself, still adjusting to vampire time. "Good evening."
Her fingers trail up my spine, coming to rest at the nape of my neck where she applies just enough pressure to remind me who's in charge. "You seem nonplussed to be waking up in the presence of your goddess."
I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "I've just been watching you sleep for a while."
"And how long is 'a while'?" she asks, her eyebrow arching perfectly.
"Four hours, give or take," I admit, shifting to prop myself up on my elbow so I can look at her properly. "My body's still getting used to your night hours."
Maeve's lips curve into that predatory smile that never fails to send a thrill through me. "Poor little human," she mocks, but there's something almost affectionate beneath the condescension. "Such fragile creatures, needing all that rest."
"Hey, I'm still adjusting," I protest, trying to sound offended but failing miserably. I'm too captivated by how beautiful she looks when she first wakes up, her pale skin practically glowing in the darkness.
Without warning, Maeve sits up and scoops me into her arms like I weigh nothing. I let out an undignified yelp as she lifts me completely off the mattress, cradling me against her chest like a child.
"What are you doing?"
She studies my face, her crimson eyes searching mine. "Why is it that every time we sleep together, I get the best rest of my entire existence?" she asks, genuine curiosity in her voice. "Centuries upon centuries of sleeping, and nothing compares to having you next to me."
My heart does a little flip at her words. "Because we're soul mates."
Maeve tilts her head, her expression somewhere between amused and perplexed. "Do I even have a soul?"
"Give me a phone and I'll google it," I offer with a grin.
Her face hardens instantly. "Pets don't get phones."
"Well some pets have ADHD and it'll be your funeral when I'm constantly poking you for attention because I get bored easily." I wiggle my fingers for emphasis, pretending to poke at her face.
Maeve's perfect features scrunch up.
"Vincent," she says slowly, "you are very high maintenance."
"Then thank God you need me."
She scoffs, setting me down with surprising gentleness before rising from the bed in one fluid motion. "Come," she commands, walking toward the living room without checking if I'm following.
I scramble after her, appreciating the view of her naked form gliding across the penthouse. She settles onto the sleek leather sofa and pats the spot beside her. I sink down, immediately gravitating closer until our thighs touch.
"I assure you," she says, her voice like silk wrapped around steel, "whatever runs in your blood has nothing to do with God."
"Is... is God real?"
Maeve turns those crimson eyes on me, studying me like I'm a puzzle she can't quite solve. "I don't know," she admits after a long pause.
Her honesty surprises me. I expected mockery or dismissal, not this thoughtful uncertainty from someone who's lived for centuries.
"Are demons real?" I press, emboldened by her candor.
She tilts her head slightly, eyes growing distant as if searching through ancient memories. "I've certainly seen things in my life I would call demonic."
"Fuck."
"Vincent," Maeve says, her cool fingers tilting my chin up so our eyes meet, "this world is vast and filled with horrors you can't even imagine. But it's all irrelevant for you." Her gaze intensifies. "You just need to focus exclusively on me."
"I am."
A satisfied smile spreads across her face. "I can tell."
My mind drifts back to yesterday's nightmare in the garage. The hunter's body, the blood, Emily's disappearing act. "What happened to the body yesterday?"
"Emily took care of it," Maeve replies with casual indifference, as if discussing trash removal rather than a corpse.
"But Emily ran away."
"Just while you were waiting for me," Maeve clarifies, her fingers now tracing lazy patterns on my thigh. "Despite failing at protecting my new asset, she was smart enough not to taste you."
I shiver at her possessive tone. "Would you really have killed her? If she had?"
Maeve's laughter echoes through the penthouse, a sound that's both beautiful and terrifying.
"Vincent, I'm a killer," she says when her laughter subsides, wiping at the corner of her eye like there might be an actual tear there. "I've killed so many humans you'd be blown away."
"More than the atomic bombs?"
Her confident expression falters. "Well, how many was that again?"
"I don't know... maybe like ten million?" I venture, realizing I haven't a clue.
Maeve narrows her eyes, clearly not wanting to admit her own uncertainty. "No… There's no way it's that high... I'd remember that."
"Look it up," I suggest, gesturing toward where I assume she keeps her tech devices.
"No," she says firmly, shifting closer to me on the sofa. Her cool fingers trace the line of my jaw, turning my face toward hers. "Vincent, stay in the moment with me."
The intensity in her eyes makes my heart skip a beat.
"It's breakfast time for me, pet," she purrs, her voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes my skin tingle.
Before I can respond, she's leaning in, her cool lips brushing against my neck. I feel the sharp prick of her fangs breaking skin, and then that familiar rush of pleasure floods my system. A moan escapes me as my head falls back, giving her better access.
The sensation is overwhelming as always, waves of ecstasy radiating from my neck throughout my entire body. My fingers find their way into her hair, holding her against me as she drinks. Each pull of her mouth sends another pulse of pleasure through me.
"Maeve," I gasp, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.
She doesn't respond, too lost in her feeding. Her arms tighten around me, pulling me closer until I'm practically in her lap. The room spins slightly as my blood flows into her, creating that supernatural connection that still baffles me.
When she finally pulls away, her eyes are glowing brighter than before, lit from within like twin rubies catching firelight. A single drop of my blood clings to her lower lip before her tongue darts out to collect it.
"It's almost a shame I can't drink more from you," Maeve sighs, running her finger along the puncture marks on my neck. "But I feel like I'd explode with energy."
"Well, don't do that," I say, my voice still a bit shaky from the intensity of her feeding.
She traces her cool fingertip down my chest, stopping right above my heart. The simple touch sends electricity through my veins, making me wonder if there's something supernatural about every point of contact between us.
"Maybe we really are soul mates," she muses, her crimson eyes studying me with curious intensity. "I find myself very unnaturally gravitating toward you."
I can't help the wide smile that spreads across my face. "That's love, Maeve."
"Maybe..."
She leans in suddenly, capturing my lips with hers. The kiss deepens as she sucks on my tongue, drawing it into her mouth in a way that makes my toes curl. When she finally pulls away, I'm breathless.
"What would my pet like for breakfast?"
"A powdered donut from Dunks," I reply without hesitation.
Maeve blinks at me, her expression shifting to something between amusement and horror. "Look, I love their coffee since it feels like Boston, but no, you are absolutely not eating a donut."
"Why not?"
"It's bad for you."
I shrug, not seeing the problem. "So?"
Her eyes narrow dangerously. "If it's bad for you, it's bad for your blood," she explains slowly, like she's talking to a particularly dim child. "Which means it's bad for me."